


Across Two Halves of the World

by seki



Category: The Last Remnant
Genre: Adult Qubine, M/M, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seki/pseuds/seki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flirtation is one thing, action quite another. But distance does make the heart grow thoughtful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across Two Halves of the World

David closed the door behind him with a sigh of relief.

Meetings had run long that evening; Qubine -- visiting as he passed en route to Elysion -- had been been surprisingly keen on discussing the trade quotas for that year, and only sheer stubbornness had kept David from conceding the whole matter out of exhaustion. In the end they had agreed to conclude the matter in the morning, if only because the scribes were yawning so ostentatiously that it was clear nothing was going to be recorded accurately if they continued. And then David had attended an emergency meeting with Pagus about the Jhana aggression on their eastern borders -- there were farmholders in need of urgent assistance, the matter could not wait until the morning -- and then Torgal had wanted quickly to inform David of the latest rumours around the Imperial succession and then, _finally_ , David had been allowed to seek his own bed for the night.

Some thoughtful soul had thought to light and shield a few lamps in David's quarters, and had banked the fires too, leaving his reception room delightfully, indulgently warm. David shrugged off his outer jacket and left it across one of the chairs before he sank into the other to unlace his boots.

The room had a sweet scent to it tonight, and it took David a moment to discern the source of it; a large bouquet of night-blooming flowers in a vase near the window. There seemed to be a card tucked into the display. Once he'd shucked his boots, he crossed over to read it, curious.

_To please you, so that other pleasures may follow._

David glanced to his left; the door to his bedchamber was slightly ajar, and the lamps had been lit in there too.

Oh no. Surely not.

He pushed the door open cautiously.

Qubine was lying back against David's pillows, arms behind his head; he had a single sheet draped across his lap, and likely nothing beneath it, to judge from the way it clung to his thighs. He made a pretty picture, his sandy hair fanned against David's dark sheets, his smile welcoming and sly.

"David," he said, sounding completely self-assured. "Come to bed."

David yanked his gaze away from the line of dark hair that led from Qubine's navel downwards to the edge of the sheet. "I fear it's occupied," David said, as levelly as he could, leaning against the doorframe.

"There is room for us both."

David closed his eyes. "I was not intending on sharing my bed tonight."

"Perhaps I can convince you otherwise." Qubine's voice was silken.

"Oh?" The room really was _too_ warm, David thought. It made thought hard. "And why would you want to do that?"

"Because you have been flirting with me for years, David. And I am old enough to make something of that, now."

David risked opening one eye for a moment; Qubine was sitting up now, his expression set in a knowing smile, watching David intently.

The thing was, it was true; David had flirted with Qubine. It had started longer ago than David was comfortable thinking about; the young Duke had become oddly awkward around David as he'd grown into his pubescence. It had been rather sweet, and certainly flattering, to realise that the source of Qubine's discomfort and occasional blushes was a blossoming attraction to David. David had been unable to resist responding with warm smiles and knowing looks, too tickled by the idea of Celapaleis' Lord in any way in thrall to Athlum to stop himself. And as Qubine had grown into himself and had developed confidence, the flirting looks and comments had become somewhat of a game between them, adding a mild frisson to routine meetings and negotiations.

It didn't hurt that Qubine had grown genuinely attractive as he matured; his childish features maturing into a sharp and hawkish face and his voice deepening into an expressive baritone. Being able to genuinely admire the young Duke's appearance had certainly added truth and pleasure to the game from David's perspective.

David had not expected Qubine to think their game _this_ serious.

He forced his eyes to meet Qubine's. It was late; he could scarcely think coherently, but he knew that he could not possibly bed the boy, no matter how brazenly Qubine was inviting it. "I had not intended for that to become physical, however."

Qubine's expression actually flickered into uncertainty. "You _do_ want me," he said. "You are not so good an actor that you could convince me, otherwise."

David gathered all his willpower and managed to move his shoulders into a lighthearted shrug. "That doesn't matter. We can't afford to be slaves to our desires." He took his weight off the doorframe, to stand more squarely. "I will leave you my bed; it is late, and it would not do for you to be seen leaving here at this hour."

Qubine stared at him, looking baffled and hurt.

"Good night, Qubine."

The chairs in his reception room were well-padded enough to make a passable bed; David pushed them against each other, pillowed his head on a cushion, and pulled his jacket over himself with a sigh. He was so tired that he didn't think to extinguish the lamps. He didn't even have time to think about what he'd just rejected -- an attractive and charismatic young man, naked, willing, in his bed -- before sleep claimed him.

He woke, in the dark, his throat aching with dryness. The fire had cooled, he realised blearily, and the lamps had burned down low. It was cold, and it was dark, and the room smelt cloyingly floral, and he desperately needed to drink something.

Water.

...In his bedchamber, on his nightstand.

His bedchamber door was well-oiled enough that he could open it silently. The moonlight that spilled in through the upper windows slashed across the bed and showed Qubine sprawling across the bed untidily in his sleep, pillows knocked to the floor and most of the bedding shoved to one side of the bed. Somehow the young man was managing to take up most of a generously-sized bed by himself, and David allowed himself to smile at that.

David padded to his nightstand. There was a glass; he filled it as quietly as he could from the jug.

A rustling behind him told him he had not been stealthy enough. He took a sip, and set down the jug. "Don't rouse yourself, I just needed a drink."

Another rustle, and Qubine's voice, from behind him. "David."

"Go back to sleep."

"I should apologise." Qubine was right behind him now, so close David could almost feel the heat of his body. "I put you out of your bed."

David took another gulp of water. "I do not mind."

Qubine touched David's upper arm, his hand warm and dry. "David. Take back your bed. I will sleep in the other room."

"That's not necessary, I assure you."

Qubine's hand tightened. "...will you not even look at me now?"

He sounded so small and unsure. David set down his water and turned, so he could meet Qubine's eyes. "Of course I will."

Qubine let go, immediately, his hand hovering in mid-air for a moment, the other clutching a sheet he had wrapped tightly around him, and he looked so relieved that David felt immediately guilty. "I don't repulse you?"

Marion help him. "No."

"Then why--"

"Because it would be an act we could not undo." David scrubbed at his face with his hands, tired and exasperated. "And I am _exhausted_ , besides. I would not bring you much joy with my company tonight."

Qubine actually took a step back, and frowned at him. "David--"

"Go back to sleep, please, I beg you. I do not wish to argue this now."

Qubine bit at his lower lip, as if thinking, and then he shook his head firmly. "The bed is yours."

David let out a huff of annoyance. "Very well."

He watched from the doorway as Qubine curled himself into the space David had left on the chairs, and then closed the door firmly before allowing himself to fall gladly onto the mattress.

It took him a while to settle himself, untangling the mess of blankets and arranging pillows. The sheets were scented unfamiliarly, as if Qubine had managed to imprint his own perfume on them firmly in so short a time. The thought unsettled David; Qubine had been naked here, naked and… nervous, most likely, hopeful for David's response to him.

David's _body's_ response was, belatedly, very enthusiastic, and David directed a baleful look at his own crotch before determinedly ignoring it. Qubine might not be technically a child any more, having come of age some months before, but he was too many years younger than David for the relationship to be on an even footing. And politically… David didn't even want to think about the politics.

Despite that, he was obscurely disappointed to wake up and find that Qubine hadn't snuck back into the bed while he was asleep.

When he looked into his reception room, Qubine was flat on his back on the chairs, his arms flung up above his head as if in surrender. Qubine's knees were hooked over the arm of the chair, his feet dangling in mid-air. The sheet was curled around his waist and wrapped around one leg; the other leg lay bare from hip to toe.

Qubine was lean to the point of scrawny; there was muscle in his chest, but it was evident that the boy had never had to take up arms in regular battle the way David had at his age. The luxury of peacetime living, David thought, wryly.

He cleared his throat, and Qubine's eyes snapped open immediately.

"It is morning," David said, as lightly as he could. "Just barely, but I thought you might want to dress before the servants arise."

Qubine scrambled out of the chairs and rose to his feet, swiftly. "Yes."

David averted his eyes, until Qubine pulled the sheet back up into a less revealing position. "Your clothes are in my chamber."

He busied himself pushing the chairs back into position and then, when he found himself at a loss, in opening windows and relighting all the lamps. The room had felt too warm, too intimate before; now it felt like somewhere he might receive a guest formally before breakfast had occurred.

The beautiful bouquet, some of the flowers now curling shut in daylight, still gave off a heady sweet fragrance. With the windows open, it blended into the freshness of the spring air. David stroked a waxy leaf, wondering how Qubine had even arranged for such a gift. Flowers of this size were rare in Athlum, and it must have cost a small fortune. 

Qubine, when he emerged, was dressed in a perfectly respectable tunic and trews. It would not arouse suspicion for him to be in David's rooms thus clad, and David felt a thread of tension unknot itself in his spine.

"Would you mind if we broke our fasts together?" Qubine asked, his chin held rather stiffly high.

"No, that is a fine idea. I'll call a servant."

David was aware of being inspected thoughtfully by Qubine all through their meal. There was a broodiness to the gaze, though it did not seem ill-tempered, just… considering.

"The flowers are lovely," David said, after the silence threatened to unravel his patience entirely.

"Thank you." Qubine took a sip of tisane. "I gave one of your servants a list and money, and they worked marvels."

"Ah."

Qubine set the cup down, and took a deep breath. "David. Last night--"

"It's forgotten."

"No, it is not." Qubine frowned. "I… I will not pursue a dead loss. But you are too rare a prize for me to give up if there is any hope."

David stared down at his own lap. It felt like his stomach had been dropped in cold water; he repressed the urge to shiver in embarrassment at the emotion that rippled through Qubine's words.

"So I must ask. _Is_ there any hope? Or were all your smiles and words just courtly flattery?"

David forced himself to look up, to meet Qubine's gaze. The Duke looked… like he had steeled himself for the worst possible news. David knew he should say that there was nothing more to it. He should sigh, perhaps rake a hand through his hair charmingly, and say that he'd flirted for the sheer pleasure of flirting, and had meant nothing at all by it.

"They were not," he admitted, instead. "But it matters not how sincere I was in my admiration. Flirtation is all there can be between us."

"Because of the politics."

"Yes."

Qubine leaned forward, and twisted his cup around on its saucer. "Well. Then I will enjoy our flirtation, and ask for no more."

"...thank you."

Qubine nodded. "I will set off for Elysion today."

That was sooner than had been planned, but David could scarcely blame Qubine for wanting to absent himself; the whole night was an embarrassment to both of them. Distance would allow the wound to heal, so that when David attended Congress the following week it would be less raw.

"I will see you at Congress," David said. "Perhaps we can find time for dinner, one evening?"

"I look forward to it."

\--

The news came in, two days later.

 _Duke Qubine is to be confirmed as Emperor_ , the note read. _Congress will be postponed by three days; on that third day he will be sworn into his position and then will officially open Congress on the following day before he travels to Undelwalt for the coronation._

_The following Lords must ensure they attend before Congress to swear their loyalty: Ghor, Balterossa, Nagapur, Athlum, Drugan, Veyriel, Karnassan, Patro, Melphina, Royotia, Imshin, and Kiel._

_In the name of the Emperor, may he rule forever, &c._

Three successors had been mooted and then assassinated before they could take their post. The Empire did desperately _need_ an Emperor. But Qubine?

There was a scribbled additional note, for David's eyes.

 _I had thought to tell you of this before I left_ , it said, _but it did not seem appropriate. However, I have a favour or two to ask of you; when you arrive in Elysion, please meet with me. Before I am sworn in, for preference._

_Your friend,_

_-Q_

"I can scarcely believe this," David said, refolding the note carefully, aligning the broken halves of Qubine's personal seal. "I did not know he was in consideration."

"A sixth cousin," Pagus said. "A degree beyond what would normally be acceptable, but I suppose these are unusual times."

"I can't believe he accepted," Emmy said. "I wouldn't want to wish the role on anyone."

"It does seem a poisoned chalice," David agreed.

And what, he wondered, tapping the letter softly, was to become of Celapaleis if Qubine was Emperor now?

\--

"A regency," David repeated, flatly.

"Yes." Qubine shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and the tailor made a clucking sound of disapproval as the hem moved in her grip. "It will only be temporary."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

David looked at the heavy cloak, trimmed with both fur and lace. "But you are not intending to be a temporary Emperor."

"No, the Empire needs stability. But there is no time for me to search for anyone competent and unappointed to take my place; the best I can do is ask you to rule in my stead until I can find someone."

"I do have my own city."

Qubine shifted from foot to foot again. "I trust you to try and be impartial in matters that impact both our lands. You have good advisors here, and my Prime Minister is competent enough to take on some of the work. Your role will not be overly arduous."

"I know. I am not going to refuse you. I merely want to register my objection."

Qubine nodded. "Thank you. I'll appoint you regent formally once I'm sworn."

"Very well." David folded his arms. "Was that all you wanted, your imperial majesty?"

"Don't call me that yet." Qubine glanced down at the tailor. "Ah -- lady, are you done yet?"

She ignored him at first, pinning up a line of fabric with a frown, and then she glanced up. "If you do not take this off in my absence, I can go outside for a moment."

"Please."

She stood, bowed, and then left the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Qubine held out both hands in David's direction.

"Come here."

David obliged, letting Qubine clasp both of his hands and pull him up to stand on the small dais with him.

"Taking care of my people is half of what I wanted to ask of you," Qubine said. "The other half -- correspond with me?"

"Sorry?"

"I will be exiled to Undelwalt for the foreseeable future. Will you write to me, there, and let me write to you?"

Qubine's expression was so earnest that David found himself nodding. "Certainly."

"I don't mean reports on my city and my people. I mean, write to me as my friend, and advise me." Qubine squeezed David's hands. "I will miss your company, David."

"And I, yours." David pulled his hands free, gently. "I will write. I promise."

Qubine turned, slightly, and eyed himself in the mirror. "One of my first acts as Emperor will be to have the formal garb altered to be less pompous."

"You'll scandalise the court," David said, and smiled. "But I imagine that they will have to get used to being scandalised."

"I certainly hope so."

David looked over the ensemble, trying to find something to compliment and finding nothing. "Still, you wear this better than most," he tried. "It almost looks imperial on you."

"You think? I think I will look absurd with the crown added to all this."

"You're handsome enough to carry it."

Qubine's eyes widened fractionally, before he shuttered the reaction and smiled a wry, warm smile. "Flattery, David? Currying favour with your new Emperor already?"

David chuckled. "Perhaps."

"It's not sufficient to win me over quite yet. Come, compliment me some more."

There was a polite cough from outside, before the door opened and the tailor poked her head in. "My lords, I really must have this cloak finished today."

"Certainly," David stepped down from the dais. "Unless his imperial majesty has more favours to ask of me?"

"No, I suppose that will be all for now, thank you."

\--

The package was thick and heavy, strung with wax and ribbon, bearing the Imperial seal.

The first letter inside was a list: all the affairs Qubine had thought unfinished or in need of attention in Celapaleis. Most of them were ones David had been told about already by Qubine's staff, but it made him smile to see them summed up so pithily, and some of Qubine's accompanying advice was enlightening.

The second letter was a personal one, sealed by Qubine's own mark.

 _David_ ,

_I miss Celapaleis more that I had imagined. I had not thought I would miss the sound of falling water so, nor the tang of salt. The skies are an endless bland grey here in this season, unrelieved by sun or storm. I miss watching the lightning from the deserted tower at the rear of my castle. The people here eat heavy, starchy food that sits uneasily in my stomach, and I miss fresh fish, pale wines and spiced fruitbreads._

_(I could import these things; I am the Emperor and little is outright forbidden me. But it would not be the same.)_

_I miss my advisors. The imperial court is full of toadies and I can trust nobody to speak their mind to me. The only person who stubbornly holds an opinion counter to my own is the court tailor, who will insist that mud brown is both right and proper for Imperial clothing. All others here will bow and scrape and smile and press their heads to the floor in their eagerness to agree with my pronouncements._

_We will see if this amenableness lasts. I have started the reforms that this Empire so sorely needs; you will see the proposals come up for vote in Congress soon. Some of them are quite radical, but without radical action I fear the Empire will fragment._

_(I might be glad of the freedom that fragmentation would give me, in time, I suppose. But I would rather we were united and living in peacetime than have the sovereign states all at risk of war.)_

_Write to me, David. Tell me that my people are hale and hearty, that they like your rule well enough -- but not as well as mine -- and that no disaster has befallen my city. I fear that I fret like a mother over her young, and yet I cannot show it overmuch, for I would not wish to have my city threatened as a result of my partiality._

_In return I will try to find things here to praise and recommend to you._

_Yrs,_

_Q-_

David snorted, and folded the letter to replace it in the package with its sister.

There was one last letter in the package, also with Qubine's seal.

 _Further to the other letters enclosed_ , it said, _in talking to my people here I realise I will not see you for upwards of a year at least. Here again I must ask a favour: send me your image, be it visistone or miniature or sketch, so that I might recall your face more clearly when I write to you._

There was another line, crossed through so thoroughly David could not make any word out. 

_Never mind_ , it continued _. Even if you do not send an image, do please write, David._

_Yrs,_

_Q-_

_\--_

_David,_

_Thank you for the miniature; I have it in my quarters, by my desk, so that I may look at it as I write to you. It seems a good likeness, and the style familiar. Would I know the artist?_

_And an especial thank you for the visistone. Seeing whole vistas projected seems quite novel to me, and it must have been an expensive gift for you to obtain. Your choice of subject was well-made. I have lingered in the shadows of the town square to listen to the musicians play at dusk before, and the scene is still as beautiful as I remember. Your kindness is very much appreciated, and if I can repay it somehow you need only ask._

_You were right to surmise that the Empire faces threats from outside. Our northwestern corner was well-defended by the rocks and reefs to our north; you will face few armadas making their way to Athlum's shores. The eastern beaches and islands of the Empire are less fortunate, and the lands here are splintered between Lords who do not co-operate with one another well. Four armies fighting together can turn back many threats; four armies who occasionally turn on one another are more of a liability than an asset._

_(In theory all of these lands are subordinate to my will. Were it possible I would take their lands away entirely, find some way to unify them, and gift them to a good ruler, but my first act when I encounter a good ruler with no prior commitments will be to make good on my promise to you and hand Celapaleis over. Currently you rule over more land than makes up five or six fiefdoms here, and there are grumblings at the size of lands granted to the Lords west of Vackel. Despite this, I fear you may be waiting some time. Competency is hard to come by.)_

_I enclose a recipe for one of the things that makes my heart ache a little less for Celapaleis: Waldkuchen, a cake that can be dense and chewy but in the hands of good bakers is a truly magnificent creation._

_Has the land ownership reform come through to your desk yet? I forsee shrieks I will be able to hear from here when that hits Congress._

_Yrs,_

_Q-_

_\--_

The promised reforms were both sweeping and drastic.

David, before he dared even show them to anyone, did some calculations in his room on how much this would impact the taxes Athlum could raise. It was an eye-watering loss, if he was honest, and his instincts screamed at him to refuse to support such madness.

Instead, he set aside his calculations, and picked up the two reports Qubine had sent with the reform proposal. One was slim, merely a documentation of the average income and expenditure of a peasant from a steading near Undelwalt, and that was sobering enough. The other was a more extensive set of figures, encompassing average life expectancies, health, numbers of sons and daughters lost to conscription, amount of land farmed over time, amount of tithes taken and monies levied, across several classes and nobility levels of the population. The numbers were taken from across the continent.

The peasantry -- not everywhere, but _nearly_ everywhere, including in Athlum -- was being bled dry, worked to the bone, and thinned out to support larger and larger armies. It was appalling. It had been a result of slow, incremental increases in demand as the sovereign Lords shored up their defenses. David didn't think any increase had been maliciously intended, but people were being constantly pushed for higher yields from fewer men and were then being asked to sell more than half their produce for government rates. It was a miracle there hadn't been riots in the worst-affected areas.

 _We can't do this to our people,_ Qubine said in the attached note. _Not if we wish there to_ be _people in the future. We must make this change, and let the Lords take the impact._

David, dry-mouthed from horror, could only agree.

\--

_David,_

_Would you believe that Caedmon of the Silver Falcons came before me with a petition? He wishes to work with the official Imperial armies in the fight against invaders from the East. You have worked with him, I know: is the value of his abilities high enough to justify the scandal of appointing him a command with no prior Imperial Army training?_

_My work here is become an endless procession of committees and subcommittees, and pushing actual reform through is more sluggish than I'd like. I have been scolded -- as much as anyone here will raise a criticism of any sort -- for taking too active an interest in the normal running of the Empire. I think some of the nobles and advisors had become altogether too used to holding the reins themselves._

_But I do not know what they expect, other that for me to sit around decoratively on the throne. When I took to the field myself at Karnassan, you'd think I'd walked defenseless into a nest of hydras from the fuss that was made. I refuse to be a leader who will not lead when there is danger. Besides, it raises morale no end for soldiers to see their ruler by their side on the field, and my soldiers need that morale against these endless waves of raids from the East._

_Thank you for your sensible words on the reforms, though I expected you would see sense where others might not. The recordings of the sessions were illuminating, and your speeches truly conveyed the sentiments I have about the rights of the common folk. I am glad that the bill passed by such a significant margin, and hope you credit yourself for a large portion of that support. I can only hope it helps us rebuild confidence in the Empire as a protectorate and not a dictatorship._

_(More trivially, you have cut your hair anew, and it suits you very well. Though you look tired, and I can only blame myself for the workload you are under.)_

_Undelwalt is become quite beautiful in the spring; the trees ripen and burst forth in a thousand blossoms, and there are flowers all around. I had night-opening honeybloom planted on my balconies; the scent makes me a little homesick, but it is worth the ache in my chest._

_~~If you would visit the capital sometime then~~ Never mind, that is not a command and you are altogether too busy juggling the demands of two lands, I am sure. Instead, please accept this recording -- it cannot convey the sweet scents, but at least you can see some of the beauty that flourishes even here._

_Yrs,_

_Q-_

_\--_

David handed his sealed letter to the golden-furred sovani, who bobbed his shoulders into a bow with a nervousness David still found strange from a member of a race usually so unimpressed by mitras.

"I'll have it there in days, my Lord," Leucetius said, and bobbed again. "And return as soon as I am given his response."

David smiled, as reassuringly as he could. "I thank you once again. One rarely finds so willing and trustworthy a courier."

"My Lord flatters me," Leucetius said, his ears shifting into an apologetic position.

"I do, but it is deserved. Many people would give a great deal to read the private correspondence of the Emperor and the Northwest's Regent."

"I would never do such a thing." Leucetius's ears stiffened with insult at the thought. "Even were I not--"

"I know, I know." David held up a placatory hand. "I know you can be trusted, and that is what I thank you for. As always, if I can grant you any boon in response, please let me know."

"None is needed."

David nodded, thoughtfully, and then stood, and offered his hand to the sovani. Leucetius, as he always did, took it with exaggerated politeness, and bowed his head over it briefly.

"My Lord," Leucetius said. "I am at your service, as always."

"You're a good man," David said. "Rush would be very proud to know you now."

He saw Leucetius swallow down whatever reaction he had to that, as the sovani always did at the mention of Rush. But such praise was the only reward David had found that Leucetius would take without argument.

"Now," David added, withdrawing his hand gently. "If there is any way I can expedite your journey…"

"No. I will leave now." Leucetius took a pace backwards, and bobbed again.

David watched from his window as the sovani made his way across the courtyard. Leucetius had been Qubine's choice of courier, having been recommended him by Caedmon. David had been delighted to see Rush's old comrade, and couldn't fault Qubine's faith in the sovani; Leucetius would sooner have been tortured than have let their mail be even slightly compromised.

\--

_David,_

_I am fine, I assure you. The reports seem to have overdone the extent of my injuries; I took a sword to the shoulder, but it was a clean cut and is healing well, and does not come close to being 'run through'. Caedmon carried me off the battlefield and to the medics at once, and there was not time for the wound to fester. My arm is immobilised so I do not strain the muscles, that is the only reason I am even bandaged. Though your concern is much appreciated._

_(And my presence was useful, I must believe. We turned the tide, David, and broke the back of the battle before I was incapacitated. Though I am becoming more convinced that all these sorties are merely a preface to a larger invasion; I do not think all these invaders are operating independently, merely that they wish us to believe they are. It is a chilling thought, and I do not relish the scale of the warfare that may result if I am right.)_

_My gardeners tell me that the clippings and seeds you have sent us are planted and that all effort has been made to provide them sufficient warmth to flourish. I hope they take to the soils here._

_I miss you._

_I confess, I nearly struck that through; I nearly burnt this letter. But we are friends, and that is the sentiment that burns in my chest. I miss my city, and my castle, and my rooms, and my advisors and friends there. But I also miss you, David, as my friend, my confidant, my peer. I would love to talk freely with you here, would love to have your ear to talk through the reforms I know are necessary but which I must force through unsupported, would love to drink wine with you and talk of art and music and poetry._

_There are few here I can call friend, and none with whom I can talk as we once did._

_There, I have said it. Now I will seal this letter and send it with our friend before I can retract my words in some manner. Yrs, with all sincerity,_

_Q-_

_\--_

David held up the new Imperial portrait, and frowned.

"It is not a very good likeness," Emmy opined, and she squinted. "I don't think our Emperor has ever looked so… rounded."

"No, indeed."

Either Qubine had gained a greater amount of weight than David could credit -- even if Qubine's descriptions of Undelwalt's cuisine did say it was heavy and rich, Qubine had never been inclined to gluttony -- or there was some reason why _feigning_ extra weight in his portrait was advantageous.

The previous God Emperor had been corpulent, David recalled. Mayhap there was some link there.

"And his nose was not so… well. Not so."

David pursed his lips. "Well. We will display it as we must."

"Yes, My Lord."

\--

_David,_

_I cannot express how much my heart leapt to see your letter, not how it soared at your assurances of friendship. I miss you; there, I have said it again, and I still mean it. Were you not so sorely needed where you are, I would use my prerogative to have you summoned here just so I could clasp your hand and ask advice of you in person._

_Advice I sorely need, in all truth. This letter is expedited and will, I hope, be with you soon. Please write as soon as you can._

_The Eastern raids are_ very _definitely advance sorties from some kind of unified source. The captives still refuse to speak, but I had a few men sneak in with the retreat a few months ago and they have finally returned. There is a large island some significant distance to our east, overfull to the point of crowding with a warlike people. They eye our Empire with greed at the size, the space, the resources. They are determined, and their ships can carry several dozen men each over the distance at a time. Our ships cannot travel that far (I have men poring over the reports to try and work out how they achieve it), but we have lookouts hidden along the eastern coasts and fire-signals so we can can anticipate their attacks._

_I do not know what can be done. I cannot have our armies constantly camped on our shores, that is an intolerable thing to do to my people. I cannot raise more armies by conscription; you know well how fragile that new trust is with our common folks. And I do not know that we could turn back a well-organised and unified attack by these warriors, not if they attacked with full force._

_I miss our Remnants, but then: perhaps the invaders would have Remnants too, and any advantage would wash out to naught._

_I have written to you, and to Ghor, and would like the scale of this threat not to leak out further than it has to. Already -- for I write to you both with your images set before me, as best to anticipate how you might respond -- I fear I can hear Ghor tell me to let my men camp forever upon those barren Eastern cliffs and beaches, that loyal men would do that and be glad to defend their Empire. But those of the Eastern kingdoms are only uneasily at truce with one another, and it takes all I -- and Caedmon, who is invaluable in his leadership abilities -- can do to keep that peace. Were they to be constantly at camp, in a state of battle readiness, I cannot say they would not turn upon one another, would not decide to strike north or south to take hold of one another's lands._

_I miss the Northwest more than ever now._

_Write me as soon as you can, I care not if you can tender valuable advice as long as you tell me I am not driving our Empire into ruin._

_Yrs,_

_Q-_

_\--_

"I'll do what I can, but no promises," Nora grumbled, in the tiny room at the back of Athlum's main mercenary guild. "And maybe none of them will agree to go East with me."

"I understand."

Nora nodded, and stood, abrupt as always. "You could raise 'em up yourself. Use Rush's name, guilt them all."

"I won't abuse his memory so."

"Sure. It's sickening, how _good_ you are, you know?" Nora sniffed. "Don't worry, I won't use him. I got my own leverage. But it's an option, and you might need it if things are as bad as you reckon."

David leant back in his chair. "His name isn't always a help. There are those who'd think the very mention of him an augury of bad fortune."

"Yeah, but _those_ people wouldn't help you anyway. Nor me." Nora made a sharp, dismissive gesture. "So if you have to, _don't_ go double-guessing yourself, _sir_." 

"Hmm. Well, perhaps. Let's hope it never comes to that."

Nora made the little blessing-of-Marion sign at her forehead. "A-fucking-men."

\--

_David,_

_I am assured it is you whom I should credit or blame, and so: your reinforcements are both welcome and timely, and I sense I should not ask how it was achieved._

_They are good men and women, and they are excellent leaders, and I have seeded them as discreetly as I can across the armies. I hope you are right that their rapport will assist in knitting our forces into a united front. It is needed; the forces seem to have called a halt to their sallies, but I can only think this a temporary hiatus._

_Caedmon and your Leucetius have been conferring; there is a scheme they think will be of aid to us in the East if things escalate. I regret to ask you to pioneer this in the West but I must; you and Ghor will form one of the main chains._

_And you are right, I should stop that, I should stop referring to our Empire as if it was composed of two entirely separated halves. But the geography makes it irresistible to split the Empire so, and I think -- alas -- that that division is felt by many of our citizens. It is a top-down problem: the East regards the West as ruled by Congress, and the West sees the East as ruled by my direct decree, and they do not see themselves as one whole no matter how the true situation lies. I think often on achieving a more unified sense amongst the Empire, but I confess: I like the diversity within our nations, and would not compromise that for anything._

_Or perhaps it is that I would hate my fair city to become anything like this cesspool._

_Talk to me of trivialities, my friend. How fares Celapaleis? The late summer was always lovely there, the breezes turning the city into a tranquil oasis. Athlum, too, was always at its best in that season, despite the heat, if only because your people could work such wonders with their spices and fruits, could make such refreshing wines that it banished all worries from one's mind. Has the harvest been good this year?_

_We have some fine fruits here too; were I not certain they would bruise beyond edibility, I would enclose a few spinefruits. I_ will _send along some of the welken seeds -- roast them, grind them, and brew them into a tisane, and you will see why the fruits sell for such high prices here._

_Your flowers are blooming and thriving; I write you from a small corner of the Northeast blossoming here in Eastern soils, a symbol of the unification I will strive to achieve one day._

_Yrs as always,_

_Q-_

_\--_

The signal fires were a considerable expense to set up. They _would_ have been a considerable expense to maintain, had it not been for the local mayor who came to watch the first one being erected.

David had explained that there would be a tiny camp of soldiers here in their village -- just enough to cover the task in shifts -- whose responsibility it would be to maintain the fire. It wasn't a garrison, and the soldiers would not expect to be supported in any way by the village.

"No, milord," mayor Jireal had said, his hat clutched to his chest. "No."

David, a little taken aback at the protest, had frowned. "I suppose we can put the camp outside the village if you're concerned about the army interfering with your people."

"No, that ain't it." The mayor had shook his head, firmly. "Begging your pardon, but we don't need to have you post people here special. It's _our_ fire, ain't it?"

"I…"

"An' even if it weren't, it should be." The mayor nodded, almost to himself. "This is a proud village, and we've got more to spare than we used to thanks to th' Emperor, may he live forever. Let our boys have th' job."

It would set a precedent. A useful one, if it worked. "There are a number of standards and measurements involved in keeping it burning to the right degree. Your men would have to learn all of those."

"Oh, set a sergeant here at _first_ , o' course. So we know exactly what's wanted. But surely it ain't worth you posting men here permanent. If we need th' army, ain't that what the fire's for?"

David turned, and stared at the firetower. It formed the first link of the chain that would stretch from the eastern coast to the western strongholds. Qubine's proposal was that he be able to signal the western lords if a massed, concentrated force made its way onto their shores. It was a beacon that asked for one thing: for armies to head for the East.

But Jirael was right. It must be feasible for smaller parts of that chain to call for aid from nearby, for Ghor to call for Nagapur or Athlum for Balterossa. Or that a village with a fire could call for their Lord, their armies.

"We'll need to come up with a system of signals to specify origin," he said, half to himself. "And intended destination."

"Milord?"

David smiled at Jireal. "We will, of course, supply the materials for maintaining the--"

The mayor was shaking his head, firmly.

"--no, not even that?" David snorted in amused approval, and then held out his hand. When the man took it gingerly and went to bow over it, David pulled his hand back far enough and shook his arm once, making the whole a firm handshake. "You are a credit to Celapaleis. Don't let your pride stop you from asking from aid if you need it."

"No, milord." The man was staring at his hand in David's, his eyes wide. "We know our limits, milord."

David let go. "Very good. You set a fine example, mayor Jireal."

"Milord." The man bowed, jerkily, and then swallowed visibly before he lowered his voice. "Um. Milord. I do have a favour to ask?"

"Ask it; if I can grant it, I will."

"You're a fine regent, milord." Jireal ducked his head, and shook it before he looked up at David again. "But we all know your heart's Athlum's. We miss our own Lord. And if I were him... mebbe he'd want to know we miss him."

David tipped his head to one side. "I understand."

"Thank you, milord."

\--

 _David_ ,

_The amendments you and your Jirael suggested have made villages keen beyond measure to adopt the lanterns as defensive assets. I have a few smart men here working on codes to make it easier to transmit urgent messages, but you are right: this is a subtler and far more intelligent idea than mine. Think you that he'd accept some Imperial commendation? He may have done us more service in a few words than most of my nobles here have in years._

_I will send him my personal thanks, and trust to your advice that he will be glad for such._

_The assaults on our shores continue, though their numbers are lower than they were. My spies tell me that their ships are deep-hulled and wide, and that this is why they can sail so far and yet cannot approach our shores closely. I have never been so grateful for our Empire's lack of good anchorage, nor so frustrated: we have nowhere to build ships like theirs, nor do they have anywhere to dock theirs here. In all, I fear this only spares us temporarily; if they are determined, they will retool their ships._

_Paris and Charlotte have arrived here at court. Charlotte is become a fine woman; Paris an intelligent young man; both of them will be excellent rulers in time, once they settle on which city to rule from. They are popular visitors; at the time of their wedding the court seized on 'forbidden love', 'warring kingdoms' and the assistance of Rush Sykes in their courtship, and there are -- I'm told -- theatrical retellings of their romance staged regularly._

_(I have little time to attend the theatre here, and the last time I did it was to a sorry affair that sought to apologise for and make heroic the actions of Wilfred Hermeien. I scoffed more loudly than might be regarded as polite or diplomatic, and the play was withdrawn from performance a few days later. I am unrepentant.)_

_I am enjoying the company of old friends. Paris brings me gossip, half of which I assume is sheer fabrication, unless old Ghor truly is to become a father in his dotage? If you confirm this absurd rumour, I fear Charlotte will hold me to a forfeit. Don't let it be true: your Emperor cannot lose his dignity over such a thing._

_Yrs as ever,_

_Q-_

_\--_

"They come from the North, milord," the runner said, gesturing at the map that had been hastily unrolled. "We have lookouts as far east as Fornstrand, and they didn't see the ships come past. They came in from directly North, at Dillmoor."

David frowned. "Describe the ships, if you can?"

"Big, milord. Tall-masted, broad of hull."

"And their design of sail?"

"Plain." The runner pulled an apologetic face. "Looks like undyed plaincloth, milord, longer sails than we'd use."

"They _must_ be related to the Eastern invasions." David squinted at the map. "They must have sailed far to the north, to remain undetected from our shores."

Pagus pressed a finger to the map. "From necessity, perhaps?"

"Perhaps." David looked over at Torgal. "Can we get a map of the depth of the waters?"

"We can try," Torgal said. "I will send word to our fisherfolk, if we have nothing in the library."

"If you're right," David continued, "then it must be that the waters north of Dillmoor are deeper, and permit approach. Can they make land?"

"I hope not. The cliffs should make it near impossible for them to climb, even if they can set foot on the rocks of the coast."

There was a pause.

"My lord," Emmy said, her quiet voice somehow overloud after the silence. "I have a notion."

\--

 _David_ ,

_You are become quite the hero in Undelwalt; your image pasted all over, my people here composing songs and poems of your bravery. I am angry that you put yourself so at risk, but I suppose that is hypocrisy._

_And to capture one ship would be reward enough; to have captured two verges on overachievement. We have carpenters and shipbuilders crawling all over them. You were right; the wood used in the construction is something unknown on our shores. I am certain we can find something of its equal, however._

_I intend to send one vessel east, to scout and return with whatever information it can._

_Should I plan to replicate these vessels? To turn the battle against the invaders, take our armies to their shores? Such notions are offered up to me daily, but I fear this would in practise move the battle from land to sea. I do not think we can win a naval battle against a force clearly well-used to seafaring. I certainly do not anticipate that we could approach their shores undetected._

_It is strange to see your image everywhere, your face so grave despite your victory. It reminds me of my youth, of the disappearance of the Remnants, and of how my people in Celapaleis spun strange stories around it. I have never dared ask you for intimate details of that time, for to do so would seem intrusive. But I do remember how Rush Sykes looked at you, and you at him, and I infer, and ache for your loss._

_(I am sorry. Perhaps I should not talk of these things.)_

_There are other matters to discuss. My advisors wish to test the chain of signal fires. Can we do so without panicking the populace?_

_And: alas, Paris and Charlotte have left the court, full of zest and determination. Paris talks enthusiastically of extending the aqueducts into the desert, of watering the dust there, rebuilding Glenys into a township so they can unite their countries. I think his plans vastly ambitious, but they are good plans, and perhaps he will achieve wonders._

_It gives me thought, though. Perhaps Undelwalt is too far east, too fallen into its own ruinous ways for ruling this Empire. Maybe if I built a palace in Berechevaltelle, or atop Vackel, it would suit better._

_With the departure of Paris and Charlotte comes the arrival of Violet Gilles-Barre Nielsen, who has offered herself up to serve in the Imperial forces. If her husband is wondering where she is, please inform him for me._

_Yrs,_

_Q-_

_\--_

David set down Qubine's letter, and smiled blankly up at Leucetius. "I will write him a response, but I need some time to think. I will arrange a room for you here tonight."

The sovani shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I can obtain lodgings in town."

"If you'd prefer. But at least take your meal here; Torgal has a store of sovani liquor he will share gladly and all the rest of us cannot stomach it."

Leucetius nodded. "If you insist."

David called in the guard from outside, and sent Leucetius off towards the kitchens, before he closed the door firmly and allowed himself to bury his face in his hands.

Rush's absence did not hurt usually, not nearly the way it had when the loss was new and raw. But seeing Qubine's polite, well-meaning pity felt like acid on the wound. David still missed Rush. He still sometimes hoped that Rush would somehow return, that there had been something mystical in the way Rush had imploded into a thousand points of light and that one day, _one day_ , David could be reunited with the bravest, most selfless man he'd ever known.

The hope was a thin, flimsy shred these days. But it still lingered.

Seeing Qubine talk about Rush was especially discomfiting. David _did_ feel an attraction to Qubine, a respect and admiration for the man who was wrestling to keep their Empire safe and whole. It was a different sort of attraction than he'd felt to Rush; Rush had been brave and generous and open, where Qubine was sharp and cynical. It was a distinct contrast, and yet, David could see at least one strong point of resemblance: Qubine had effectively given his life up to serve the people of the Empire, and Rush had done the same.

David got up, and strode into his study to inspect the portrait of Emperor Qubine. Who knew if Qubine had truly become as well-fleshed as he seemed here, and the nose was all wrong, but the artist had got the glint of intelligence and wry humour in Qubine's eyes right. 

David let his finger trace the softened jawline.

He was supposed to love his Emperor; all subjects were. But he wasn't supposed to wish he'd ignored his better judgement and bedded the man when he had the chance.

David heaved in a sigh, and sat back down at his desk.

 _Qubine,_ he began. _You may ask of me anything you wish; I would not deny you._

\--

_David,_

_You offer too much, and yet, when next I see you, I will ask more than you may wish to give._

\--

"The fires burn," shrieked the messenger, as he hopped into the hall. "My Lord, the fires!"

David was on his feet immediately. "From where comes the message?"

"Veyriel."

Already Blocter was clutching a map, Emmy was dragging over a table to unroll it.

"In what numbers? What did the message say?"

The messenger held out a page, with code scrawled out across it and the translation below. "The Empire needs as many as you can send. Leave only as many as you must to defend."

David held up a hand. "Did the message contain the correct key?"

"Yes, my Lord. It is genuine."

"Then we set off for Veyriel _immediately_."

\--

The attackers were, to David's eyes, savage barbarians. They wore the skulls of some animal over their own heads, like helmets; they dressed in furs and scraps of leather; they painted designs on their bared stomachs that resembled eyes with tentacles. They fought fiercely, their mystic arts different but as effective as those known in the Empire, their weapons well-tended. There were thousands of them; rank upon rank, a truly momentous invasion that continued to spill out of longboats on the shores even as their front ranks were engaged.

They had archers in their midst. David had never liked using archers; unless one assigned units to defend them, they were too easily flanked and overwhelmed by stealthed unions. These ones had staff-wielders amongst their numbers, chanting like Jhana shamans in a way that presumably extended some protection.

The Imperial armies closed in like pincers, flanking from north and south, pushing in from the west, leaving piles of corpses and wounded as they went. There were thousands of the invaders; there seemed to be tens of thousands of Imperial forces, all of them determined to drive back the barbarians.

David had not fought so hard nor so long in years.

"Hold," a familiar voice said, as David's mystic arts finally felled a vicious gangs of thugs. He turned to see a troop of well-armoured Imperial soldiers in the Emperor's own livery, their vibrant uniforms spattered in blood. 

David, out of habit, scanned their immediate surroundings. There seemed to be no more live enemies nearby, only corpses, and David relaxed enough to drop guard.

The man at the front of the Imperial troop hauled off his own helmet, his sandy hair spilling out as he did so.

David knelt, immediately, his soldiers following suit. "Your majesty."

"Stand," Qubine said, crooking a finger at them. "We are still on the field. I need you ready."

"Yes, your majesty," David said, standing. "Though I think we have beaten them back."

They were on a hill towards the northern edge of the battle, David realised as he followed the line of Qubine's gaze; from here one could see the Imperial forces strung out southwards, could see the longboats retreating towards the huge ships on the horizon.

"I believe you are right," Qubine said, and he tossed his helmet to the floor. "I confess, I would like to be down there, delivering the last few blows. But I will cede that honor to my men."

David bit his tongue; it was easy, after the tenor of their letters, for him to want to joke about Qubine's unexpected bloodthirstiness. But that would be terribly impolite, to make any joke at the Emperor's expense, in front of his men.

Instead, he took in the way Qubine had changed since last David had seen him. Not corpulent, no: Qubine was broad-chested with muscle now, and held himself like a warrior accustomed to battle, his heavy sword balanced easily in one hand. His hair had grown a little, and acquired a curl at the ends, and his face had a new sort of maturity and strength to it.

It had not even been a full year, and Qubine _looked_ so much older it made David's breath catch in his throat.

"You answered my call," Qubine said, glancing over at David. "All of you."

"Was that not the intention?" David asked, trying not to sound arch.

"Certainly, but still, it is good to have your loyalties so swiftly confirmed." Qubine raised a hand and beckoned idly; one of his men approached him, bowing as he reached Qubine's elbow. "We will need to burn the corpses, jail whatever captives we have, and strike camp for all these forces. The Lords and their immediate advisors will come to Undelwalt; we shall hold a full court."

The man bowed again before he left.

"There hasn't been a full court in living memory," one of the other men in Imperial livery observed. "It will be a fine way to commemorate our victory here."

"Quite." Qubine smiled at David. "The towers of my palace will be overflowing. Go tend to your troops, and report to Castellum as soon as you can. My chatelaine will find you and your generals accommodation."

"Yes, my Lord."

\--

_David,_

_Come to my rooms. Be guarded. Burn this in your grate immediately._

_Q-_

_\--_

Qubine's rooms were not as ornate as David had expected, considering how very elaborate the decorations were everywhere else. There were beautiful frescos on the ceilings, but the furnishings were stern and unadorned.

"Step into my study," Qubine said, his manner stiff. "I wish to show you some of the reports we have had lately."

David obeyed, confused beyond belief. Did Qubine think himself spied upon in his own rooms?

In the study -- also plainly furnished -- Qubine pulled a chair alongside his own, gestured to David to sit, and then pulled a ledger forward, flipping forward a few pages as he did so.

David looked. Halfway down the page, the accounts ceased for their endless procession of figures, and a single line of small, cramped text was inserted.

_Say nothing you would not want overheard._

"You see," Qubine said, his voice betraying nothing, "that we are only just avoiding falling into debt."

It was as well that David knew how to school his expressions. If Qubine was spied upon in his own rooms… then the man must have been living under constant surveillance for months, his movements and behaviour picked apart and examined for weakness. It was a miracle he'd felt free to write as he had. Perhaps those letters were his only freedom.

David picked up a pen, flipped the page over, and ran his finger down the page. At the first blank line, he wrote, _I will follow your cues._

Qubine reached out, and touched the words. "Yes, that's the cost of arming the coast watchers."

"I see."

Qubine flipped the pages again, took the pen from David's hand, and circled the bottom figure. "This is what we must raise each month, to sustain this."

It was a hefty sum. "Must it be sustained? They can't attack in such force again, not soon."

"True. Perhaps we can reduce the cost for a while." Qubine shut the book, firmly. "I sent one of your two ships East with the best spies and linguists I had. Maybe we can broker a peace, once there is mutual comprehension."

"I hope so. What will you offer them?"

"Maybe we will offer them land -- some of the Easternmost islands, perhaps. Maybe not. It is a shame their warriors had nothing worth looting on them; it gives me little cause to think they have anything worth trading for, and trade is the best glue for any alliance."

"Mm. Well, at least without fighting, the farmers can reclaim that land."

"And blood is an excellent fertiliser, yes."

A gruesome thought, however much truth there might be in it. "I would not want to eat those crops."

"Nor I, in truth. It is stuffy in here," Qubine said, and he slid the ledger into a drawer, then locked it. "Would you like to see the results of your gifts? We have encouraged Vitaeroot to grow here."

"Truly? I thought it would rot in this climate."

"My gardeners are miracle-workers. Let me show you."

\--

The palace gardens were extensive. Qubine led David through a very formally arranged set of paths, with precisely-clipped hedges and beautifully cultivated flowerbeds. It felt very stern, though there was beauty in the rigid lines and the careful choices of colour.

Qubine unlocked a small door in the high wall on the northern edge, taking a key from around his neck to do so.

"Wait here," he told his guards. "See we are not disturbed, if you can." 

They nodded, obedient, and Qubine ushered David through the door.

The garden within the walls were a sharp contrast to those without. High, scrubby-looking trees arched overhead. The walls nearest the door were hung thickly with vines bearing delicate white and yellow flowers. The beds here burst and overflowed with a riot of wildflowers and ferns, with herb and berry bushes sprouting in what seemed like a random distribution. A narrow bark-laden path led through a gap in the undergrowth, into what seemed to be a shadowy glade.

David stepped forward, almost involuntarily, charmed.

"Go on," Qubine said, locking the door behind them. "There's a waterfall."

The garden was deeper than David had thought, and it took them several minutes of walking to reach the waterfall at the far end, past bushes of fragrant herbs and beautiful clumps of flowers native to Athlum and Celapaleis.

The waterfall cascaded down loudly from a point some way above their heads, from what David realised was a carefully-concealed offshoot of one of the main palace aqueducts. The pool beneath was deep and crystal-clear, so one could see the lurid underwater flora beneath the surface.

Qubine sat on a bench by the edge of the pool. "If we are not loud, I believe it is possible to talk without being heard here," he said, and patted the bench next to him. "Though we may be watched."

"Even here?" David sat, and looked back at where they'd come from; a tangle of trees and bushes and ferns and flowers, impossible to see through. "Who can watch us?"

"Someone will find a way, if they are determined." Qubine ran a hand through his hair, and let out a sigh. "This place is poisonous."

David glanced behind them, at the waterfall. "Did you install this, then?"

"I did. Sometimes I bring advisors here, if I wish to talk unheard. It is useful." Qubine smiled. "Having an excuse to build my own garden helped, though it makes the court think me an eccentric."

"Aren't emperors supposed to be eccentric?"

"Perhaps." Qubine snorted, and unfastened the clasp on his cloak. "In so many ways, I do not live up to expectation."

"No?"

"No." Qubine took off his cloak, and swung it over the seat between them. It was voluminous, spilling over both their hands and across David's lap.

David, instinctively, began to pull his hand away, and then felt Qubine's hand seek his beneath the folds of the cloak, fingers clasping on David's wrist. David, surprised, let their hands join together, Qubine's curled around his.

"They expect," Qubine said, and now David could hear faint hints of disbelief in his voice, "that I, as Emperor, will have bold appetites. That I will eat, drink, gamble. That I will wish to indulge myself in every way that our former Emperor did."

His hand tightened on David's, almost painful.

"The old Emperor was a man of _many_ desires. I do not wish to live up to his legacy."

"Can you not tell them to desist? You are Emperor, after all."

"No." Qubine huffed out a chuckle. "The court here trades power on pleasing the Emperor, on satisfying his whims. If I have no whims for them to satisfy, if they think they have nothing to court my favours with, then _someone_ here might decide they would rather not have an Emperor."

David tried not to react visibly, but-- "You think they'd have you despatched?"

"I know it." Qubine stared down at his lap. "I play a dangerous game, here, and I _must_ play it or lose control of the East entirely. If this court turns against me, the best option I have is to flee, and set up another court somewhere more congenial. It's a tempting thought."

"This does not sound like you," David said. "If your advisors had treated you so in Celapaleis…"

"But this is not Celapaleis."

That was true. David squeezed Qubine's hand, under the cloak. "I had not realised matters were so extreme, here."

"I am Emperor. I must fulfil my expected role here, that I may save us all from disaster."

"From the invaders?"

"And from within." Qubine snorted. "I remember being in Celapaleis, or in Elysion. You would not credit how desperate things are in the East, from those vantage points."

"You said there was infighting."

"It is more than that." Qubine raised his other hand, and sketched a vague shape in the air that David, after a second of confusion, realised was meant to be the continent. "Say Vackel is here. The spine of the land rises here and here. Were my rule seen as undesirable, it might be the only matter that would unite the Lordships this side to fight as one. And there'd be no time to summon aid to my side from the other. Undelwalt would fall."

"You think it that serious? And you've been pushing forward reforms like the land one, even so?"

"I must." Qubine sighed. "That at least was seen to hurt the West more than the East. As long as I seem to accept the East's favours and to favour them in return, I think they will allow extremes."

"Can I help?"

Qubine actually looked at him directly, then, his expression unguardedly surprised. "How?"

A good question. "I don't know."

"You would not last long in this court, David." Qubine smiled. "But I think that a point in your favour."

"I confess I am not looking forward to meeting your advisors."

"A wise attitude." Qubine withdrew his hand from David's. "I must warn you; your friendship with Rush Sykes is viewed with some suspicion here."

"Because of--" and David paused, unsure how to phrase the thought, _because the East scorns men who love men_.

"Because Rush Sykes was a dangerous seditionist." Qubine pushed his hair back from his face. "His treachery cost this land all its Remnants. You are held in better light, thanks to your recent actions, but my advisors have long memories and are retrograde in certain attitudes."

An interesting euphemism. "Are you asking me to deny my friendship with him?"

"No. Merely to know what it signifies, here."

"I see. Thank you for the warning." David withdrew his own hand. "How long do you intend to have us Westerners remain in your court?"

"Not long. Ghor has already protested at me taking him away from his son, and I am not cruel enough to prolong his absence much." Qubine shrugged. "A few days, that is all. And I fear I cannot meet with you alone again."

Of course not. "Favouritism would be noted."

"Anyone knowing quite how _much_ I favour you would be problematic, David." Qubine smiled, again, distantly. "That you are custodian of my lands is enough to put you at risk as it is."

"And people here are… retrograde."

"Yes." Qubine stood, abruptly, and David rose to his feet lest he be caught seated when the Emperor was not. "Be on guard, and… I dearly wish I could ask more of you."

"I know." David knelt, and after a startled moment Qubine extended his hand to allow David to brush his lips against the back of it, a kiss he hoped would look to any onlookers like one meant for swearing fealty. "I would grant it."

"Rise, David. May we both have more freedom one day."

\--

The Imperial court was a deeply unpleasant place in David's opinion; opulent, indulgent, but the sort of place where secrets were whispered behind every drape and where every pretty face concealed deadly ambitions. Qubine, on his throne overlooking the busy audience chamber, looked bored and haughty and distant. His advisors crept up to his elbows, sliding papers in front of him now and then, and accepting either his signature or his refusal with the same oiled smiles.

Ghor was a _magnificent_ sight to see in the midst of all that pomp and plotting. He glowered at the sycophants who tried to court his favour, openly tested all his food for poisons and drank only from his own supplies. Bertrude and Priam stayed uncharacteristically close to one another, as if they hadn't fought over their children for years. David spent the first evening in their uneasy company, and then after that he cleaved close to Ghor, allowing the yama to make a point of testing _David's_ food too.

Violet was there, near Qubine's throne. David nodded acknowledgement at her, and wondered where Caedmon was.

Qubine dismissed them all on the afternoon of the second day, sooner than David had expected, but then, perhaps there was little to be achieved from having the lords there except display that Qubine had loyalty to and from the Western lords, and that was a double-edged sword.

David and his generals travelled with Priam's retinue, staying overnight in Ghor's lands before proceeding to Elysion.

"My Lord," Priam said, in Elysion, as they parted. "I am uneasy at leaving Duke Qubine with those, those _reptiles_."

"I understand." David laid a conspiratorial hand on the man's shoulder. Priam had shrunken with age, having developed a distinct stoop in his shoulders, and it worried David to see him look so unhappy. "I like it no more myself. But that is where the Emperor must be."

"You have his ear, I know. Tell him that we stand with him, no matter what."

"And for that he's grateful." David looked out, towards the Southwestern road. "May your travels home be safe, My Lord. You have some distance yet to go; if you like, I can send some of my men with yours."

"My son awaits me in Balterossa. I will be fine."

"Very well then."

Priam, to David's surprise, reached up a hand and patted his cheek. "Safe journeys, David."

\--

The northwest was, indeed, a haven after visiting Undelwalt. David settled the minor affairs that had arisen in Athlum and travelled to Celapaleis, where Emmy and Pagus reported little of concern had passed.

"You were not gone too long," Emmy said. "Did you at least have a chance to talk to the Emperor?"

"A little. He misses this place deeply."

"His letter outpaced you," Emmy said, with a smile.

"A letter? Already?"

Emmy let herself out of David's office, gently, as David broke the seal on the letter -- Qubine's own, not an Imperial seal.

 _David_ ,

_You have not yet left my palace, and yet I write to you because I cannot speak to you._

_It has been a torment, having you under my roof. I have missed all my Western friends; I would love to step down from my throne and clap Ghor on the back, would love to tell Priam and Bertrude that their children are so mutually smitten that no power in my Empire could prevent the union of their lands, would love to ask Olebeag about land reclamation or even advise Gestad about the rebuilding efforts._

_But you… you held my hand, and intimated that you would accept my suit were I to press it. And so I sit in my throne, observing the court, knowing you might not reject me this time. I could sneak into your rooms tonight, could feel the press of your kiss against my lips instead of my hand, if I were rash enough to think it wouldn't cost me the Imperial throne, wouldn't imperil you, wouldn't bring down the Empire in its wake._

David sat down with a thump in his chair, one hand going to his mouth.

_I will ask you all to leave; having the whole court assemble was a show of power worth making but tonight will be hellish, alone in my bed when you are here in my palace._

_Or worse, if I am gifted the company of a woman by some courtier. Had you guessed that I must take women to my bed, when offered? I am clumsy with them at best, but that is a far lesser evil here than for my tastes to be divined, or for me to be thought ascetic. If they send me a woman tonight, I will feign drunkenness, I suppose. Or think of you._

_You may not wish to know these things, and yet, I tell you anyway. Be kind, and if I assume too much of you, break it to me gently; you've held my attention a long time, and your words have more power than you know._

The next paragraph was struck through rather thoroughly, though David could discern the words _eyes_ and _beloved_ \-- and how his stomach twisted, oddly, when he made that out --and _without match_. The next paragraph was written in a scratchier, less elegant form of Qubine's handwriting.

_How awful to read that over. I sound like some awful poet at court, singing of his lady's beauty. Your poetry always outmatched mine, and you know you are fair already. I am undone and ineloquent, thinking of you. I will save the rest for one day, should we ever have sufficient freedom._

_Yrs, of course,_

_Q-_

David stared at the signature, the large looping Q and the indistinct line that followed. This was a love letter, no less, without even an attempt to feign another topic. Qubine's feelings, messily spilled out onto parchment, and all of it _desire_ for David. Desire that David, if he were honest with himself, returned in equal measure, drawn strongly to this new, wryer, more _distilled_ form of Qubine that had emerged from his time on the throne.

He glanced over at the Imperial portrait, and snorted at the sight of how unlike the real Qubine it was. The man had grown only more beautiful during his tenure as Emperor.

David folded the letter back up, habit making him align the edges of the broken seal again. He frowned down at it, stroking it to feel the texture beneath his fingers. There was a large crack in the wax, a little above his own break, and the top half of the seal seemed a little distorted to his eyes. Of course, wax did sometimes crease and look cracked, if it were jostled in transport. Still.

David held the seal in place, and tugged gently at the paper, and the wax came off, the top half lifting away from the paper beneath.

Ah, damnation.

This letter had been opened, probably by a knife beneath the wax to lift it, and then reclosed and heated to seal it again. Perhaps the contents had been tampered with; most likely not, but _someone_ had read the contents at least.

If only it hadn't been _this_ letter that had been opened. Qubine might truly be undone now.

"Emmy," David said, striding to the door. "Who carried this letter for Qubine?"

Emmy sprang up from the bench. "An Imperial soldier, my Lord."

"And he's left now, I suppose?"

"...well, yes." Emmy frowned. "What's wrong?"

"It's been opened." David held up a hand, before she could question further. "Needless to say, the contents were sensitive in the extreme. I must send word, immediately."

Emmy nodded, saluted, and then said, "I'll go."

"What?"

"You need a trustworthy envoy. I'll take your letter."

"...give me time, I will write it now."

David wrote,

_Qubine,_

_Your last letter was compromised. It arrived pre-opened, delivered by an as-yet-unidentified 'imperial guard'. I can only hope this letter arrives before anyone acts on the knowledge they gained from it. Emmy can remain with you, if you need another trustworthy guard. If there is aught else I can do, you need only send word. Securely, if you would._

_If you need shelter, there is not a Lord in the West who would not grant it._

_Yrs,_

_David_

\--

Elysion was a strange and barren place to David's eyes, without the Remnant Elysion overhead. It had been so many years since the sacred lands had disintegrated, and yet, David had never quite got used to the absence in the skies.

The temple district was as busy as it had ever been, however. David lurked in the shadows beside the temple to Marion, and waited.

"You're here," a cheerful voice said. "Right on time."

David twisted immediately to face Caedmon. "How is he?"

"Furious." Caedmon gestured ahead of them. "It tipped his hand. He has taken drastic action; you in the West will feel the repercussions soon."

David searched Caedmon's face; the sovani was so unlike Torgal or Leucetius that it made him difficult for David to read. "Is he safe?"

"Emmy and Violet have adhered themselves to his sides, and they have taken him from the palace to the barracks in the city." Caedmon gestured again, and this time David let himself be directed out into the street. "His armies are fiercely loyal to him personally, as are the people of Undelwalt. There is no safer place for him, east of the mountains."

"Then why ask me here?"

Caedmon gestured again, and David entered the blissfully cool and unusually empty temple of Marion. "Because he is not east of the mountains."

Oh, no. David stared at the single priest standing in front of the statue of Marion, his cowl suspiciously large. "You're here."

"I am." Qubine let down his hood. "All else is a subterfuge. Emmy and Violet remain in Undelwalt, and can negotiate with the Easterners on my behalf. I imagine that currently they are reading the proclamation that I shall announce here within the week."

David felt his knees give. He let himself sink to the floor; he should kneel anyway, it made no odds if it was by choice or necessity. "What have you done?"

"I have moved the Imperial seat. I rule from Elysion now."

"Are you _insane_? No Emperor has ever ruled from anywhere other than--"

" _This_ Emperor will." Qubine shook off the priest's cloak entirely, letting it fall to the ground as he knelt in front of David. "I am not _needed_ that side of the mountains, not now; I will return if the fires signal for me, but I can rule from here and not fear for my life."

"I thought you said the Eastern kingdoms would fight each other."

Qubine reached out, and took David's hand. "Let them try."

Caedmon made an amused sound, behind David. "The armies are more loyal to their Emperor than to their Lords."

"But--"

"Their lords do not set foot on the battleground, nor do they take injuries defending their men, _nor_ do they fight so fiercely that it shames the commanders."

"He exaggerates." Qubine stood, and tugged on David's hand so he was forced to stand too. "But they _will_ listen to their commanders over their Lords, I think."

"Or at least, to _your_ commanders?" David guessed.

Qubine grinned, and nodded towards Caedmon. "Certainly. Give me time to extend that trust; I will install this man as Lord of a united Eastern duchy one day."

"A sovani Lord?"

"Why not? He's as suited as anyone I know. When he deigns to allow me to place him in such a role."

"For now," Caedmon said, sounding amused, "That role does not exist yet. What is needed is your permission, Lord David, to repurpose one of your embassies as our Imperial headquarters. Temporarily."

"Granted," David said. "Take your old one. I never use it."

"Thank you." Qubine's hand was still clasped around his, tightly, and he didn't move his gaze from David's face. "Caedmon, if you would--"

"Certainly." David heard the door open, then close again.

"This is hardly an appropriate place, I suppose," said Qubine, glancing over his shoulder at Marion behind them. "But… once this is settled, I will have some small degree of freedom, David."

"Yes, you will." David thought, I could kiss him right now. I could step forward, and… but no. We are not slaves to our desires, and _here_ is not the place. "And I will wait."

"Mm." Qubine's hand squeezed, once. "I will endeavour to be worth it."

"And so, what now?"

"Now? We summon the Congress."

\--

It took _weeks_ , in the end, before the Imperial Capital was finally officially moved. Six weeks, in fact, and the plans for the Imperial palace were still only blueprints, though the placement -- the old Remnant Arc building, attached to the Congress buildings -- had been firmly settled. All the offices that had been in that building would move into the old Academy buildings, and the Academy would move into a new building in the Genaade district.

In the meantime, the Celapaleian embassy wore the Imperial colours like a second skin.

Emmy shuddered as she debriefed David, explaining the chaos that had erupted in the wake of Qubine's announcement. The various Lords of the Eastern realms had not gone quietly, despite the collective mutiny of the armies in their lands. Three had been imprisoned; one had fled. The lands were now held in a state of martial law; small private armies had arisen and been crushed. There were uprisings, battles between those loyal to their old Lords and those loyal to the Empire. It was a bloody, awful mess, in truth.

The East had always been prone to violence. Still, matters _had_ been getting better for the Eastern populace while Qubine was Emperor in Undelwalt and it was dispiriting to think those advances were being lost. David made notes as Emmy talked.

Money. Money would help. And aid; food, of course, as the farms had often been torched or salted by looters, but they could also send soldiers and tradesmen to rebuild infrastructure that had been sabotaged by the armies of the invaders and the armies of the deposed Lords. There was not quite a power vacuum. Various generals and leaders amongst those armies had surfaced to take the reins of power, names familiar to David from years long gone, people he would trust to protect the people and forge strong alliances in the East. He listened to Emmy's report, and gave private, silent thanks to Nora.

"My Lord," Emmy said, planting both her hands on the table between them, eventually. "Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That you were instigating a coup?" Emmy said, and then she covered her mouth with one hand. "I mean -- but that is what this is."

"No, I did not. Though I am not surprised, either, that Qubine took my aid and used it to this end." David pushed the papers on his desk aside. "You were in the Imperial court."

"I was. It was not entirely awful."

"No?"

"It had its moments of beauty and truth, amidst the poison." Emmy fumbled in her belt, as if suddenly struck by a thought. "I did commission this, for the Emperor. I thought it might be the one thing he'd miss."

David opened the visistone, and they were immediately surrounded by the sounds and sights of Qubine's private garden in Undelwalt. David twisted in his chair -- there were the trees, there the vines by the door. A Vackel vulture sounded a call nearby, shrill and alien and _Undelwaltian_ in the midst of all the northwestern flora.

The scene moved around them; the path they were on wound past slowly, past herbs and sprays of glorious wildflower, until they stood before the waterfall at the heart of the garden, and then the whole thing dissolved away, leaving them in David's study again.

"He will be overjoyed," David said, closing the visistone gently. "You should decide what boon to ask, in return for such a gift."

"I thought maybe you'd like to present it to him."

David paused, his hand arrested in mid-air. "Did you?"

"You can grant me a boon, instead, My Lord."

Ah. "What boon?"

"Release me as your General." Emmy looked down at her belt, closing the pouch on it. "I will return to the East immediately."

"If that is what you wish. Will you let me send aid with you?"

Emmy looked up, her expression startled. "My Lord?"

"I will ask the other Lords of Congress to send help too." David patted the papers on his desk. "I do not think any of us wish the East to fall."

"Of course." Emmy looked down at her pouch again, and then coughed. "Forgive me, my Lord. I had rather thought that the West would keep its distance from the East now."

"You spent too long in that court, then," David said. "Come, you know me better than that."

Emmy nodded. "I… yes, my Lord."

"I rather think Qubine will be relieved to have you there. If the Easterners send envoys--"

"And even if they don't, my Lord. Without the Emperor there…"

"Quite." David gestured to the stool on the far side of the table. "Well, then. Let's write these letters together, and see what we can do."

\--

Violet Gilles-Barre knelt before David's throne, her head bowed.

"You understand," Qubine said in an undertone, from his position at David's elbow, "that this doesn't free you immediately. I will not have you abdicate Celapaleis from your care yet."

"I understand." David pressed the blunt blade to the left side of Violet's neck, lightly. "But she is your true successor now, as witnessed by the Emperor himself."

"She is."

David lifted the blade, and pressed another kiss to it, formally, before lowering it and pressing it to the right side of Violet's neck.

"I name you Violet, first in line to this throne, by the power granted me as regent."

"I accept," Violet said, her head still bowed. "I understand the responsibilities laid upon me."

David held out his hand, to help Violet to her feet. Her eyes looked suspiciously damp, and David smiled at her. "Then rise, Lady Violet of Qubine."

The audience -- including both Nielsen and Gabriel, and David wondered how _that_ had come to pass -- applauded politely, as Violet stood up and accepted the small coronet that marked her as the Duchy's heir. David relaxed; it was Qubine's job to crown her, and David's role in the ceremony was now done with. There would be a banquet, that evening, and before that, various meetings to introduce Violet to her new role, but all of those informal.

Qubine shot David a sly look as Violet curtseyed to the audience.

And then, later, there was… time, and freedom, for other things.

\--

The ducal quarters in Celapaleis' castle had been mirrored, to make a twin for a theoretical Duchess. David had been using those quarters instead of Qubine's, on his visits, as a compromise that let him leave Qubine's own rooms as they had been. There was a double-locked door that led between the two sets of rooms, and tonight, David unlocked his side of it, as loudly as he could, and retired to wait.

Qubine, when he entered David's rooms, seemed genuinely surprised.

"I did consider waiting in the bedroom," David said, holding out a goblet of wine. "But neatly symmetrical as that would be, you deserve rather more that that."

Qubine took the wine, his fingers brushing against David's. "Are you planning on seducing your Emperor, David?"

"No." David took a step back, and gestured to the seats nearby. "I want him to talk to me, first."

"Talk?"

"I need certain reassurances."

Qubine nodded, and sat down elegantly. "About the East?"

"You ran, as soon as you heard word from me. Your court was chaos without you, your people _suffered_."

"The letter I sent you." Qubine took a drink from his goblet. "There was an assassin, in my room, the day I sent it. And another, when I left my room. And another, when I went to my gardens."

"Because of what you said to me?"

"Because the Lord who intercepted it was the one who'd been sending me _whores_ , David." Qubine took another gulp. "He realised he hadn't in fact earned anything but my disgust, and he panicked."

"Still, he was but one man--"

"Have you ever tried to kill an assassin quietly?" Qubine sighed, and set the goblet down on a small table nearby. "No, of course you haven't. But once word is out that _someone_ thinks the Emperor needs removing, others in the court decided to throw their weight behind that effort."

"Even without knowing the reason?"

"I was not popular with the court, and perhaps some of the Lords may have thought they could replace me directly, being nearly as close to the line of succession as I was."

David sat. "I am sorry."

"Why? I needed the push. Otherwise I might have marinated in that court until I was as bitter as they."

David reached out a hand, and laid it over Qubine's. "I am still sorry."

"Is this your way of declining my suit?" Qubine asked, after a long silence, staring at David's hand. "Did I disappoint you so much by fleeing Undelwalt that you no longer want me?"

"Of course not." David lifted Qubine's hand, and bent his head to kiss it. "But I wish you had not had to take such burdens on yourself."

David felt Qubine's other hand then, upon his head, threading into his hair in a caress. "I would have taken on twice as many burdens, to earn your approval."

David looked up. "You did not do this for me."

"I did not," Qubine admitted. "But I kept your image with Ghor's on my desk, to remind me of the people I respected, those who I did not wish to have to explain my failures to."

"I hope you don't wish to bed Ghor."

"Hardly." Qubine repeated the caress, and this time he curled his fingers at the end, as if to urge David forward. "But I do want you."

David kissed him, then. The kiss was a little clumsy, perhaps because they had both been anticipating this so long, but it made the hot, _yearning_ sensation in David's stomach heighten, and when Qubine tugged him upwards so they were both standing he barely let Qubine have a moment to breathe before kissing him anew.

"Bed," Qubine said, when David's hands slid beneath his shirt. "Bedchamber, now."

"Is that an Imperial command?"

"If it needs to be."

Qubine had dressed lightly; it took almost no time to undress him, and yet somehow he still managed to have David's far more complicated garb on the floor before David had flung Qubine's shirt and trews to the floor.

"I know not how you want me--"

"Be quiet, David," Qubine said, pulling him back into another kiss, his hands sliding down David's arms. "Just kiss me."

David obliged, keeping his hands where they were on Qubine's shoulders, letting Qubine move his hands on David's body as they kissed. Qubine's hands explored, slowly, his touch almost ticklish at times, but David's skin seemed to fizz with arousal in response, heat and desire trailing in the wake of each caress. Qubine took his time, tracing lines and curves on David's body, as if determined to map it thoroughly, making David's legs tremble from the effort of remaining upright.

"Ah," Qubine said, his hands _finally_ closing on David in a way that made David tip his head back and moan. "Like this, then?"

"Please," David said, his voice suffused with longing.

Qubine pushed David back and _down_ , so David was supine upon the bed, and then he knelt between David's legs, his hand now moving with purpose.

"I touched myself like this, thinking of you," he said, his voice a purr. "I thought of your skin, your eyes, your mouth, and I tried not to speak your name aloud."

"You can speak it now," David said, and though the words came out in broken fragments Qubine smiled at him.

" _David_ ," Qubine murmured, his free hand sliding up David's stomach.

"Kiss me," David begged, reaching out with both hands, and Qubine slid upwards enough to press their mouths together, not releasing his grip on David, relentless in his movements.

"Later," Qubine said, into David's ear, one hand trailing along David's collarbone, "later I shall ask you to show me what more can be done, what pleasures can be exchanged if permitted."

David had a sudden image of Qubine, splayed out and ecstatic under David's mouth, and he sought Qubine's lips again. "I will show you anything you want," he promised, his breath coming hard and fast as Qubine's hand drew tighter around him. "Things you haven't dreamed of."

"Oh? I have many dreams, David."

"All of those -- hnn -- and more," David's words sounded akin to gasps, now, and he slid both his hands down to where Qubine was hard and hot and ready for him. "I promise."

"First let me," Qubine said, and then inhaled, and then kissed David hard, nearly biting at David's mouth. "Let me please you first."

David nodded, and let his head fall back on the pillows, and gave himself over entirely to his release.

Qubine kissed him again, urgently, withdrawing his hands and then pulling back as if wanting to fully see David undone like this, undone at his touch.

"Come here," David said, when he could speak, and when Qubine did he ran his hands appreciatively across Qubine's chest. "Let me catch my breath, and then--"

"And then I am yours," Qubine said, and then he caught at David's hand. "I am, already, you realise."

"Mm?"

"My heart," Qubine said, moving David's hand slightly. "It is yours."

David sat up, his breath entirely lost again. "Ah."

"Belovéd," Qubine's word was soft, almost a whisper, and then he turned his head away. "I am a poor poet in your presence, David."

"Poet enough to win me over." David pressed his hand flat against Qubine's chest. "I'm sure I am unworthy of the Emperor's affection. But I will strive to be worthy of Qubine's."

"Good. The Empire has no part in this."

David smiled, and reached up his other hand to trace the edge of Qubine's smile. "So you say."

"And so you must accept. My word _is_ law."

David laughed, and let his hands travel down. "You're in my lands now, your Majesty. I have sovereignty here."

"So I am." Qubine glanced down, and then he spread his arms wide. "Then I am at your pleasure. Have at, my Lord."

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by yukiscorpio, and, as ever, mostly for her.


End file.
